Diligent Where It Matters
by Yuval25
Summary: He was perfect. A hard worker, smart and last but not the least, hot. Charlie Weasley was a dream-guy. It was only natural Robert fancied him. OneShot! Written for the 'Let's Finish It The Way We Started' challenge. Please R&R!


_Hey! This was written for a challenge in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum, 'Let's Finish it the Way We Started' challenge. I would appreciate a detailed feedback, and if you cannot find the time to write that, then any feedback would do. In order to improve I need criticism, and lots of it. To fix my errors, I need to know if there ARE and errors and where they are. So, there you have it!_

_In this challenge I was given a word, 'Diligence', which I had to start with and end with. It also had to be in the title. I made it 'Diligent'. It had to be the same word in the beginning, the end and the title._

_This time, I focused on a less... well, a minor character. Charlie Weasley. You'll see. Enjoy!_

**Diligent Where It Matters**

**By**

**Yuval25**

Diligent, clever and quite the looker – what more could he ask for? The man was perfect boyfriend material. He was like prince-fucking-charming only without the white horse. No, instead he had _dragons_, fire-breathing beasts that became his obsession. Personally, Robbie preferred dogs. Then again, he wasn't as brave and adventurous as Charlie Weasley.

Robbie blushed as Charlie caught him staring. Charlie raised an eyebrow – a skill Robert has yet to perfect – and smirked. Robbie averted his gaze and tried to concentrate on his job. The distraction was too great, though, and he soon found himself searching Charlie's incredibly red hair over a pile of books. Bingo. There he was, putting a book back on one of the shelves, turning to reveal beautiful brown eyes and tanned, scarred skin, walking, getting closer, stopping.

"Robert,"

Shit. "Uh..." Great, he sounded like an idiot. What was it about the Weasley that made Robbie forget proper speech every time he spoke to him?

"Are you okay? I couldn't help but notice you are poring over the same book for over half an hour now." The Great Charlie Weasley was worried about him. Merlin, please don't let this be a dream. That would be just cruel.

"I'm fine."

"Good. I was actually thinking of taking a break," said Charlie, an easy smile on his face.

"Yes. I should, too. My brain feels like it's going to melt." Robbie returned the smile. His heart was racing, making his head spin.

He stood up, closing the heavy book with one hand while the other grabbed his backpack.

"Fancy a butterbeer, then?" Charlie put his hands in his pockets. He looked like an international supermodel with those dragon-hide boots and jacket.

"Sure," answered Robbie, mentally doing The Dance.

The Dance was something he used to do when he was a kid, but as an adult he was expected to be mature and not break into a dance every time he got an exclusive chocolate-frog-card. He stopped performing it in public, for etiquette's sake. That didn't mean he stopped completely. He was perfectly comfortable with doing The Dance within the sanctuary of his mind.

Butterbeer usually meant conversation, but Robbie never prepared himself for the invasive questions Charlie asked. The man had no boundaries.

"-I mean, I've never felt the need to find a woman with that personality, but I can't assume everyone's that way. Have you ever wanted to have sex your mother?" Charlie was particularly hyper when he drunk butterbeer, apparently. It barely had any alcohol in it, so Robbie couldn't explain the sudden burst of energy and openness, but maybe the butter… What else could make him start a most embarrassing conversation about the Oedipus complex?

"I… um…"

"'Cause I won't judge you if you did. Want to, I mean. My brother, Percy, used to say our Mom is the only woman he would want to interact with, and he ended up with Clearwater, who is not at all like Mom. She's rather calm, actually." Charlie had a thoughtful expression on his face. It was cute. Butterbeer really was a wonderful thing.

"Is she?" said Robbie between sips. Charlie drank his butterbeer in gulps and was already on his third cup.

"Yes. I never saw the appeal in her, but at least Percy's happy. He works himself too hard. I once caught him studying for an exam at two in the morning. He got a hundred, though. I guess diligence is in our genes." Charlie put the cup to his lips, not drinking from it but only pressing it to his bottom lip. Robbie swallowed quietly. Was someone trying to _kill_ him?

"Sounds like Head Boy material," commented Robbie. He put his cup down. He was perfectly fine with enjoying the sight of Charlie practically massaging his lip with the glass. He felt the need to pout, jealous of the wicked cup.

"He is. How is your sister?" He drank some of his butterbeer and set the cup back on the wooden table.

They were facing each other, sitting in the corner of the small pub on two comfortable chairs. The pub was almost empty apart from a couple kissing by the entrance and the bartender, and them, of course. It was the middle of the day, so really, it wasn't surprising. Considering the lack of population in this area, this place was probably always like that.

"Jenna? She's studying medicine in New Jersey now. That's two hundred and six goals off her checklist." Robbie sighed. When Jenna was little she met someone who had two months to live. She decided right there and then that she would make a checklist of things she wanted to do in her life and do all of them, even it if was the stupidest thing in the world. It was insane, but she was stubborn and didn't relent from her To-Do-List no matter what people said. It was inspiring, really.

"She'll end up being the smartest witch in the world at this rate." Charlie laughed, his eyes shining.

Robbie chuckled with him. "Smarter than Flammel?"

Charlie burst out laughing, alerting the snogging couple. They glared at them before going back to sucking faces.

"What?"

"Flammel, being the smartest witch in the world," was all Charlie managed to say before he gave in to more hysterical giggles.

Robbie wanted to take a picture of this perfect moment. Charlie was beautiful when he laughed. And, yes, it did make him look younger.

"How do you know he's a man? Have you looked under his robes?" kid Robbie, a smile stretching his lips.

Charlie's face was almost as red as his hair as he laughed himself to near death. His deep voice was so full of joy Robbie wanted to kiss him. It wasn't even that funny, but Charlie didn't leave place for doubt as he clutched his sides in laughter. When he finally calmed down, theatrically wiping a tear from his eyes, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm crazy when I'm tired. Ask anybody."

Robbie nodded. _Apology accepted; please carry on with the laughing_.

"Ah, that was nice." Charlie looked exhausted. He probably tired himself with this unexpected burst of energy and laughter.

"Do you want to go back?" Robbie had a paper due to Thursday and it wasn't going to write itself.

"Not really, but I don't have a choice. Shall we?"

Robbie nodded, standing up and reaching for his wallet. Charlie caught his hand before he could take it out.

"None of this. I'm paying. You'll pay next time," he said in a tone that didn't leave place for argument.

Robbie wasn't listening to him, his mind a complete mess from the warm touch of Charlie's un-gloved fingers on his wrist. He wore a shirt which's sleeves he'd cut to move his arms more freely, so his entire arm was bare. Charlie's fingers were long and elegant, but not at all feminine, and his grip, while not tight enough to be uncomfortable, was strong and steady. Robbie felt all the blood in his body rush to his face, and he wondered if he was blushing or just dizzy.

Charlie let go of his hand and took out his worn, brown wallet, putting a few sickles on the table. Charlie's family wasn't rich, to say the least. During their conversation, Charlie has revealed the poor state of his family's vaults. Robbie felt saddened that such good people had to live so poorly. They didn't look it, though. They were always happy and while budget cuts had to be made, their children had everything kids needed, according to Charlie.

They left the pub, heading back to the library. It was ridiculous – they shared a class, but one of them was a Dragon Trainer and the other a Charms student. The difference between the titles could be compared to that between a pilot and a flight attendant.

Robbie felt more comfortable around Charlie after their conversation. He has learnt a lot about him, and had the opportunity to let Charlie know Robbie existed. He would even call them friends, now. After all, only his friends knew he was gay.

It didn't surprise him that Charlie didn't care. He was a nice person, in every possible way. He didn't act any differently towards him when he told him of his sexual orientation. He told a few gay jokes, sure, and Robbie even laughed, but he hasn't made fun of him. It also didn't prevent him from comparing experiences (_those_ experiences) with Robbie. Who knew Charlie Weasley liked to experiment?

Two hours later found Robert Collins and Charlie Weasley leaning against each other, one asleep and the other staring at a book. Robbie looked at Charlie's peaceful face and smiled. It was so very convenient that Charlie fell asleep on his shoulder. It wasn't rape because Charlie's head had chosen to tilt to the side and lay on his shoulder, and yet he enjoyed the benefits of feeling the warm breath on his neck.

Abandoning the books sounded like a brilliant idea. Robbie never worked hard to achieve what he didn't particularly care for.

With a brief glance at the time, Robbie closed the book and set it back on the table. He rested his head against the headboard of the couch, thinking that it was rather ironic that he, always the least hard working person in any situation, had set his mind onto something. He was going to make it happen, even if he had to work his butt off day and night for it to succeed. Charlie Weasley wouldn't know what hit him. His checklist sister, his Forever-Scowl-Face Professor, his straight A's classmates – all devoted to their goals, always lecturing him "You have to put effort in this project," "Have you tried at all?" "If there is one word I wouldn't use to describe your son, Mr. and Mrs. Collins, it would be diligent," Professor Moonshide could kiss his arse. He would show him _diligent_.


End file.
